


Memories

by I_Write_Midnight_Snacks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I'm gonna end up crying if I don't add some fluff in there, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'm probably gonna add more as the story goes, M/M, Not Really?, also, bitter-sweet angst I suppose, that's about it for the moment, there's character death but, these tags are a train-wreck, this is basically gonna be a shit ton of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Midnight_Snacks/pseuds/I_Write_Midnight_Snacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My name's Koutarou... Bokuto Koutarou."</p><p>The name echoed in my mind.</p><p> </p><p>At that point, I was convinced that the universe was out to get me. It was either a cruel joke of fate, or it really was all a mirage which would mean that I had finally gone insane. Because there was no other possible explanation for this person to be standing before me - he looked the same, talked the same, he even had the same name-  but he wasn't Kou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just gonna be suffering with a lot of bitter-sweet fluff. The whole thing starts with Kuroo dissociating so that should be a giveaway. As I do not have much personal experience though, I have done some research and I hope that portrayed he episode propperly - however if anyone knows better I will appreciate any pointers. It also might be a bit confusing at first because of that, but bear w/ me just a bit.
> 
> I'm sorry.

Everything started the same way it ended - with warm gold. I stared into that colour as it took over my world and I gave into it. Both times, an excruciating emptiness took over my body and I felt it myself move as if there were strings moving it from the outside. I had been doing something but I couldn’t remember what the something was and though there were things going on around me, everything sounded muffled. It felt as if I were in a dream. I couldn’t seem to grasp onto anything, and so I gave into the dream, I waited as it moved me closer to that colour, as it flooded me and took everything I had until-

Until it didn't.

It ended suddenly, too, both times with the feeling of skin on my own hand. Each time, the world seemed so much louder after the silence, the eyes I stared into - warm gold, close to honey yet something else entirely, such a peculiar colour for someone's eyes - were just as intense. Except, this time, they shone with life and confusion and _life_ and the hand I held was warm, so warm compared to the first time, to that hand I gripped like a lifeline, that was cold and umoving and would never again answer my hold.

A shudder passed through my body and despite the overwhelming noise and movements of the world around me, I still felt hollow, like this big chunk had been cut out from my thoughts and feelings and experiences and it kept me feeling cold despite the warm hand that I still held in my grip.

The hand that belonged to that same person with those peculiar, golden eyes that were staring at me in perplexion. The hand that belonged to a dead man among the living.

At least, I assumed I was living but maybe death would explain everything that I was - or wasn't - feeling at that moment. Maybe I was under the illusion that I was alive when in fact, I'd been killed on the way to the mall. Was that how it had been for him? When he'd died in that accident, did it feel, to him, like he got home just like any other day? But then, what did he find, 'home'? He couldn't have found me, since I'm here; but, maybe a weird copy of myself meant to keep him company in the afterlife? I like to believe that he'd know the difference between me and a copy - that he knows me well enough, but maybe he'd be happier if he didn't-

"... OKAY? Uh... hey, can you hear me?"

I blinked as the world finally came into focus completely. The sounds of people walking and talking around me stopped feeling deafening and as colors and movements began to take the shapes of real people, I was finally able to focus on the man in front of me, the ghost that I would have pegged as nothing but a mirage, a figment of my imagination, if not the very warm and very corporeal hand that I was still holding.

As I realised the position I was in, I immediately let go of his hand, cutting off his concerned words as I jumped back from him.

"Kou?" The word that left my lips sounded small and weak, weighed down by longing and disbelief.

For a few terrifying seconds, I watched the man's features changed, concern morphing into complete confusion as he spoke the question that would blow away the small flame of hope. "Uh... do I know you?"

I'm not sure what my face must have looked like at that time, but the desolation I felt must have been conveyed through my eyes just as much as I heard it in my own voice. "I'm... I'm sorry, you're- you're not Kosuke, are you?" I bit my lip, forcing myself to shut up. I was making a fool of myself in front of a stranger ( _but_ , argued that voice that sounded just like mine, _he looks just like him, just like Kou; is he really a stranger? Can he really be?_ ). I knew he couldn't be Kosuke though. There wasn't the smallest sliver of recognition on his face, and I knew, I had seen-

The sight of Kou's body, cold, unmoving, laying on a table. They hadn’t even cleaned him up, there was blood on his chin and his clothes, he had cuts and wounds all over, his leg crushed, the skin of his face burnt on one side just like his arm, just like whatever skin I was able to see; his clothes were torn, his hair was limp - _dead_. Everything about him screamed dead, starting and ending with his eyes, large and golden and lifeless. His hand had been cold. The sight had haunted me every day since.

This man couldn't be anyone other than a stranger.

"Uh, I'm sorry I'm not who you hoped?"

_Even his voice sounds the same_

The boy sounded unsure, but even worse, he sounded genuinely sorry, like he was honestly sorry for me and the turmoil I was showing ( _just like he would have done; he always hated seeing people unhappy and not being able to do anything about it_ ). "My name's Koutarou... Bokuto Koutarou."

The name echoed in my mind.

 

At that point, I was convinced that the universe was out to get me. It was either a cruel joke of fate, or it really was all a mirage which would mean that I had finally gone insane. Because there was no other possible explanation for this person to be standing before me - he looked the same, talked the same, he even had the same name - but he wasn’t Kousuke, and I honestly had no idea how to handle that situation or what to do with that knowledge, because why would the universe ever throw this person right in front of me like this, as if I wasn’t aware enough of what I had lost - who I had lost.

"I’m sorry." I managed to stammer out over my inner monologue. "I-I thought you were… someone else."

"It’s fine, uh…"

"Kuroo. Tetsurou." I provided as the stranger tilted his head at me with a grin now on his features.

"Kuroo. But really, are you ok, dude? You look like you just saw a ghost."

I chuckled weakly in response to that, because how was I supposed to answer that? I still had trouble formulating a coherent thought and just looking at him - at Bokuto - brought on too many feelings and too many questions that I couldn’t think about. "No it’s ok, I’m fine. I was ju.... surprised, since you know, you look a lot like a… a friend of mine."

Despite the fact that I was adamantly avoiding his eyes, since I risked losing myself into that colour again, I could still notice him raising an eyebrow dubiously. To be fair, it isn’t every day that you see someone with hair like that, styled in upward spikes meant to look like the feathers of great horned owl. It would be considered quite a distinguishable trait so I suppose his reluctance to see how exactly I could mistake him for someone else is understandable. I was just as perplexed as him. Thankfully he didn’t push on and instead shot me another beaming grin, the same grin I’d fallen in love with all those years back, and I was this close to bursting into tears on the spot.

"If you say so! But you should really get something to eat and drink when you get the chance, you look like death." The words were said so sincerely yet so carelessly, without the smallest bit of remorse over the unflattering description, yet no trace of a mean intention, that I couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. How did he have this ability, to make me smile despite the fact that I had been ready to cry not a few seconds before? How was he so similar? He looked proud, like pulling that smile from me was his greatest personal accomplishment. I looked at him and made sure to commit that expression to memory because I had never had enough time to do it before - there’d ever be enough time, not when death came so quickly, not if we’d have lived together for a hundred years.

"Well then, it was nice meeting you," i snorted, because that first meeting was not nice but a literal trainwreck, "but you probably have somewhere to be. Maybe I’ll see you around." Maybe it was past experience that enabled me to notice, and if it were anyone else, they would have probably been taken in by the smile, but I was certain that I saw right. His eyes dulled, and his smile dropped the slightest bit.

Something was wrong. I barely paid attention to the "Well, bye" he gave as he turned around, and before he could leave, I grabbed his arm. At that point I was certain that I’d gone crazy, because there was no way this would end well. However Bokuto was sad, and that was all that my body really needed to know in order to decide on it’s own that I was going to do something about it; I had no idea what and I knew for a fact that I was going to shed tears before the end of that day but since I’d already started down that path, I might as well stick to it.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"


End file.
